


The Day the World Kept Turning

by PerkyMetalhead



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, Blindfolds, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Kitchen Sex, No major character deaths, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, a cooking disaster, canon compliant up until The Day the World Went Away, spoilers for 5x10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerkyMetalhead/pseuds/PerkyMetalhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-chapter Root/Shaw story that takes a different approach to the ending of The Day the World Went Away. It's a fix-it fic I'm writing for myself and for the fandom. Always taking requests!<br/>Chp 1) Root fakes her death, Shaw lays down her dealbreakers.<br/>Chp 2) Root keeps tearing her stitches.<br/>Chp 3) A domestic breakfast turns into filthy sex on the kitchen table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as a fix-it after The Day the World Went Away. I'm taking my own path with it; not sure where it's headed, really, but I feel the need to write it. I would love input from the Root/Shaw community, so if you have particular things you'd like to see, leave it in the comments and I'll do my best to include it! I'm not sure how long this will be, but I'm going to keep going with the story for as long as the muse is gripping me.
> 
> I apologize if this isn't the highest quality fic I've ever written; I may go back and edit chapters to make them better, but for now, I'd just like to get an alternative storyline out there.

If there was one thing Shaw knew about Root, it was to expect the unexpected. 

When she heard of Root's critical condition in the hospital, her stomach twinged. For a moment, simulation memories of a hurt Root flitted through her mind, but louder was Root's words to her earlier that day. 

"Some big things are going to be happening today, Sameen," Root had told her in her usual "I know something you don't" sort of way. "Finch is scared to use Her, and his inaction is going to get us all killed. So things are going to need to happen." Shaw dismissed it as cryptic Root-speak – a language she was getting more familiar with, but still didn't fully understand – but the words felt more relevant now. 

Her eyes narrowed, and as part of her expected, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out to find an address sent by an unknown address. The Machine. 

Sure enough, she found herself in front of a hospital a short drive later. Carefully eyeing her surroundings to avoid unnecessary attention, she navigated the hospital's hallways with a series of incoming text messages as her guide. She found the right corridor and continued walking until the Machine sent her "X", and after a moment's hesitation, ducked into the room. 

"Hey, sweetie," came a familiar voice, and Shaw let her eyes wander to the perky brunette in the hospital bed before it. She quickly did a visual scan of her, noting the heavy bandaging near her collarbone and the fatigued expression underneath the perky hacker's smile. 

"Jesus, Root," Shaw huffed out, immediately coming to her side. "What the hell did you do?" 

"All part of the master plan, girlfriend," Root answered. "Wait, can I call you girlfriend? Or do you prefer a different term?" 

A long sigh. "Root..." 

"You can't take Root, sweetie, I already claimed that one." 

Shaw smiled briefly before shaking her head, not letting Root derail her with flirty banter. "Root. We are going to talk about this right now." 

Root sighed, readjusting her head on the pillow. "Okay. Where should I start?"

"A good place would be why the hell you're bandaged up."

"I may have performed a couple bullet catches with my body. I was never very good with magic tricks."

"Yeah, I noticed that one. Now would you like to explain why?"

"I needed to fake my death, Sam," Root said with an apologetic head tilt, as if she were telling her she forgot to order extra meat on her sandwich. "Harry's not going to budge on his... aversion to taking action unless there are drastic measures." 

Shaw nodded slowly, pissed. "Hey genius, you know you can fake your death without actually getting shot, right?" 

"Well I know that, silly. But a few unexpected events happened and the gunfire didn't seem like such a bad idea." Root shrugged her shoulder slightly to make a point, trying to hide the wince. 

"Please tell me the Machine was calculating where to position yourself so the bullets wouldn't hit anywhere life-threatening." 

"The Machine was calculating where to position myself so the bullets wouldn't hit anywhere life-threatening." 

Shaw threw back her best 'I'm not amused' face. "Root, if you want to be able to call me any term of endearment of at all, there are a few ground rules." 

Root smiled, a look of adoration beaming from her face. "Relationship dealbreakers! Oh, I can't wait." Despite her humored tone, however, Root reached out to grab Shaw's hand, indicating she was listening for real. 

Sam rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Dealbreaker number one. You don't get yourself shot unnecessarily." 

Root nodded. "Got it." 

"Dealbreaker number two. You fake your own death, you tell me ahead of time." Root started to open her mouth, but Shaw cut her off. "Explicitly. You tell me explicitly. None of your cryptic clues, you're not a Dan Brown novel." 

"Second dealbreaker, got it. So far so good." 

Shaw examined her for a second, making sure Root was taking her seriously. "And dealbreaker number three, you don't die on me. I don't care what stupid crap your god tells you, you aren't leaving me. Got it?" 

Sameen's grip had tightened on her hand, and Root let her eyes fall to their interlaced fingers for a few beats. She stroked her thumb along the back of the smaller woman's hand, appreciating every pore and vein beneath her fingertips. "I won't leave you," she vowed softly, looking into Sam's eyes. 

Sameen swallowed thickly, letting her fingers tighten around Root's for a moment before loosening them. "I mean it. I didn't go through that many months of hell just to find you no longer by my side." 

Root smiled sadly. As in love with Shaw as she was, this was new territory. She was so used to operating on her own; alerting others to her antics was not a habit she had. She realized then and there that this had to change. A small voice of "She's mine now" passed through her, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought. "I promise, Sam. I'm sorry for scaring you." Shaw leaned forward to kiss her forehead, her touch soft and forgiving. "But, I can't promise that I'll stay by your side... sometimes I'm going to be on top of you. Most of the time, actually." She leaned back in thought for a beat. "I could let you be on top once in awhile, though." 

"Shut up, Root," Shaw grunted before raising Root's chin with her pointer finger and pressing their lips together softly.


	2. Playing Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, lovelies. <3 I'm so happy to have you all with me on this journey for a happier story!
> 
> This chapter is based off of the second half of atlantisairlock's prompt: "Or Root refusing to be a Good Sensible Patient and she keeps ripping her stitches and Shaw's 100% done having to fix her back up." (The other part of your suggestion will appear at a later date. :) )
> 
> As usual, please let me know what you'd like to see in this story! I love everything everyone has suggested so far and plan to include it all.

As Shaw could have guessed, Root was a terrible patient. 

"911, paging Doctor Sexypants. I have a wound that only you can kiss and make better" is the latest medical-related text message she's received in the past three days. Which could only mean one thing: Root pulled her stitches. Again. As soon as she can sneak away from Finch, Shaw storms into the safehouse in a contained rage and heads to the bathroom, where the light is on. She finds Root with her loose t-shirt pulled down from one shoulder; she's pressing gauze against her gunshot wound. 

"Dammit, Root, did you tear your stitches again?" Shaw huffs. 

Root pouts. "No greeting kiss?" 

"Root. Stop. Tearing. Your damn. Stitches," she growled. 

"It was an accident, sweetie." 

"How is it that I've ordered you on bedrest, you aren't allowed to go outside because Finch thinks you're dead, and you still manage to pull them out?" 

Root raised an eyebrow. "You know how aggressive I can be when beds are involved." 

Shaw brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose, letting out a frustrated sigh and trying not to raise her voice too much. "I need to start bringing duct tape whenever I come over here to shut you up." 

"I can think of plenty of uses for-" Shaw shot her a warning glance, and Root stopped talking, but a grin pulled across Shaw's lips. God, she had missed this. 

Shaw grabbed the suture kit from the bathroom cabinet, a clean cloth, and some alcohol to sterilize the site. "If you tear these again, I'm not redoing them. Now tell me how you actually messed these up." 

Root sat down on the closed toilet seat and brushed her hair to one side, pulling down her shirt a little further. Shaw's eyes lingered on the elegant arch of Root's neck for a second before snapping her eyes up, not wanting to get teased. 

"I was hanging a tapestry above our bed," Root told her proudly. 

"First off, it's my bed. You have your own bedroom in this safehouse, just because you sleep in mine, doesn't make it yours. Second... a tapestry?" 

"Mmhmm," Root nods, unphased. "It matches the shag rug I put in there. And it's blood red so if we ever have to maim anyone, it won't upset the color scheme." 

"Oh no, an upset color scheme. We can't have that, now can we?" Shaw said mockingly, suppressing her own grin. Root winced as Shaw sanitized the area, and Shaw tried to make her movements as light as possible to minimize hurting Root. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Wouldn't mind if it did." 

The pair fell into comfortable silence as Shaw worked. Despite the discomfort of the stitching, Shaw couldn't help but notice the rise and fall of Root's chest beneath her fingertips, and the cadence of Root's breath underscoring the quiet bathroom's ambiance. Shaw found herself doing that more often now -- just noting Root's presence. She supposed she had probably always done that, but not been aware of it.

As Shaw was getting to the end of the threading, Root looked up at Shaw. "How is Harry doing?" 

The shorter woman stopped working temporarily, wondering how best to sum up the situation. Finch was much more guarded with his thoughts since Shaw's return, and Sam didn't trust her assessment of the team's somewhat new dynamics to speak with much authority. "He's... struggling." 

Root nodded slowly. "Do you think I did the right thing?" 

That was an even tougher question, and Shaw was caught off-guard by it. In all of Root's wild plans, the only consult she really needed was the Machine's. She didn't often ask for Shaw's advice. "I think that Finch is still trying to process the situation. But after Carter, and Elias, and... and me to some extent – the losses are hitting him." Shaw finished up the stitching and tied off the end. "He's changing the way he's willing to use the Machine, I think. He's starting to face truths." 

"Okay," is all Root responded, filing the assessment away in her head. "Well, I hope he forgives me after all this." 

Shaw offered a sympathetic squeeze to Root's good shoulder. "He'll probably be pissed at first, but if this takes down Samaritan once and for all... well, it's worth it." Root brought her hand up to rest above Shaw's, fingers against the back of her hands. Shaw fanned her hand out a little, letting Root's fingers fall between her own.

This was new for them, all this hand-touching. Root had of course always loved touching Shaw, but Shaw didn't reciprocate much, not before Samaritan. When she came back, she noticed that hand-holding was one of the biggest habits that had developed between them. Shaw had never vocalized it to Root, but being in constant contact with her was a big comfort in a reality she was still adjusting to. She was sure Root had noticed the shift between them too, but she hadn't commented on it, and Shaw was thankful. Root always knew which buttons were okay to push and which ones weren't. 

Root cleared her throat lightly, eyes twinkling up at Shaw. "As lovely as this is, you should probably get back to the others before they suspect you're harboring someone in your safehouse." 

Shaw drew her hand back, giving her a barely visible smile in return. "Yeah, that's a good idea." She put the kit away and headed towards the door of the bathroom. "I'll be home in a few hours. And be careful with those stitches for real this time, okay? I'm gonna be pissed if they're not pristine later." 

"Sounds good, sweetie," Root replied, tossing her hair behind her as she stood up and straightened out her shirt. Shaw started to leave. 

"Oh, and doc?" Shaw turned around again. Root smirked deviously at her. "I wish I was your coronary artery so that I could be wrapped around your heart." 

Root was rewarded with a flicker of an amused smile before Shaw slammed the door shut behind her.


	3. Four Alarm Kitchen Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cooking challenge develops between Root and Shaw after a failed attempt at making breakfast. Kitchen smut ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! How are you all doing?  
> Here's the next chapter of the fic. It's fairly fluffy, and then devolves into total unapologetic smut. So, I've bumped the rating up to E for sexual content.  
> The following are the prompts that inspired this:
> 
> "I would absolutely love to see something domestic. Maybe just the two of them having dinner together at home. Root trying to cook and failing. Even Bear refusing to eat what she's made. Shaw being exasperated. "  
> "Domestic shoot. Them wearing each other's clothing"
> 
> Hope you guys don't mind that I made it super smutty! Enjoy, and as usual, let me know what you'd like to see in the comments.

Sameen Shaw is more than used to finding herself in ridiculous predicaments. From her time as a rambunctious kid, to her time as a Marine, to her time in med school, to her time with ISA, she had accumulated her fair share of strange stories and uncommon occurrences. 

When she woke up one morning about a week into Root's recovery (and faked death), she wasn't expecting that the end of the day would bring being knuckles deep in an orgasming Root while a fire alarm goes off and the safehouse kitchen is moments away from going up in flames due to a cooking accident. But to be fair, who ever does see that coming?

\-- 

It all started when Shaw came home from a mission at 4am and slept in past Root, an occurrence that almost never happened. On an average day, she'd go to bed around 11pm and fall asleep to the sound of Root frantically typing away on her laptop late into the night. She'd wake up at 5am, go for a run – her fitness level had deteriorated terribly since Samaritan – come back at 7am, shower, watch Root sleep for a moment (or several), and then fix up coffee and something to eat. 

To make things very clear, Sameen Shaw does not make Root breakfast, or coffee, or pull any of that domestic bullshit. The fact that every morning, she happens to set out a second mug by the coffeepot and leaves a couple extra pancakes by the stove is not because Shaw likes doing it or anything. She just... sometimes is bad at counting. Yeah, that's it.

Today, however, Shaw doesn't stir from sleep until late in the morning. She is disoriented at first (mornings are hard nowadays; it takes a little while to reestablish reality after all she's been through) and she reaches for Root. A wave of panic sets in when she feels nothing but empty sheets at her side, but she sits up and breathes, her eyes adjusting to being awake. It's then that she glances over at the clock and sees the red "9:46am" blinking, and she smells something that's in between a pancake and a miniscule forest fire.

Shaw lets herself sit back against the pillows for a few seconds as she yawns and rubs the sleep from her eyes, and then starts to get out of bed. The safehouse is cold, and she just sleeps in a tank top and boy shorts, so she picks up her button down shirt from last night and slips it on.

She makes her way into the kitchen and finds Root with a spatula and a pan, her hair pinned up in a loose bun. The smell of coffee and burnt pancakes fills the room, and Shaw drinks in the sight of Root attempting to cook, a small smile playing on her lips. After a few quiet moments, she steps into the kitchen and makes her presence known. 

"You know, when you said four-alarm fire, this wasn't what I had in mind," Shaw says slyly, her voice still husky with sleep. Root turned to her, a little startled – the entrance to the kitchen was on her deaf side, unfortunately – but grins when she sees Shaw. 

"Good morning to you too, sweet cheeks," Root replies affectionately, turning her attention back to the pan. Shaw saunters up behind her, letting her hand trace Root's back through her sleep shirt. She places a soft kiss on her shoulder blade before examining Root's cooking creation. 

"Root, I think you're supposed to take them out of the pan _before_ they burn," Shaw advises with a serious tone. 

Root just shakes her head with a smirk. "So cranky before your morning coffee, Sam. Sit down, I'll bring you breakfast." With another light touch, Shaw does as she's told, pulling two chairs back from the kitchen table. It's not long before Root comes to the table with two plates of pancakes and some coffee for them both, and Shaw replies with a soft "thanks". The pancakes look awful, but Root made them, so Shaw guesses they're kind of cute. 

Unfortunately, they're only cute for a few bites, and then Shaw starts feeling like she's eating charcoal and she really can't eat any more of it. Root knows they're bad, too, because her nose is crinkling and she's staring at her plate like the pancakes have personally betrayed her. 

"Hey, Root," Shaw dramatically whispers. "I think you should leave the cooking to me from now on." 

"Aww, are you offering to be my housewife?" 

"No, I'm telling you your cooking is terrible." 

"Oh come on, they're not that bad," Root reasons, taking another hearty bite for emphasis. She cringes at the taste; that one failed. 

"Not that bad, huh?" Shaw tosses back with a smirk. "C'mon, let's see if Bear can get through one of these things." 

"I'm sure he'll love them," Root says enthusiastically as Shaw calls Bear over. Taking a pancake off her own plate, Root drops it lightly on the ground, encouraging Bear to eat it. Bear looks up, his gaze shifting between the two women. Humans confuse him sometimes, but he can tell that both women want him to produce opposing responses. His head drops to the pancake, and he gives it a tentative lick. It does not taste as good as kibble or the meat bones Shaw sometimes gave him. He noses the pancake again before glancing back at the women and then retreating to his dog bed. 

"See? Bear's on my side here." 

"But he liked it!" Root insists. 

"Just because you lick something doesn't mean you necessarily like it!" Shaw tosses back. 

"But I lick you to show I like you." 

"Ew, Root, that's weird." 

"You didn't think it was weird the other night," Root says sultrily, one eyebrow lifting. 

Shaw tries to keep a smile from spreading across her face. "I don't know how I put up with you. Anyway, I could cook better food than this _blindfolded_." 

"Blindfolded, huh? This sounds like the making of a good challenge, sweetie." 

Shaw laughs, bringing her coffee mug to her lips. (To Root's credit, her coffee was pretty good.) "A challenge? What, you want me to cook something blindfolded?" 

"Sounds fun to me." 

"And what do I get when I win? What's the incentive?" Shaw asks. 

"Nothing," Root replies, getting up from the table and bringing her plate to the sink. "You're stubborn and competitive...so I know you'll do it anyway." 

Damn it, Shaw thinks to herself. Root was right. 

\-- 

Shaw makes it back to the safehouse at around 7pm that evening, a bag of groceries in hand. It wasn't hard to decide what to make blindfolded, considering how well she knows her way around preparing a steak. She also picked up an excess of sauce and rub ingredients; Root hadn't stocked the safehouse cabinets with nearly enough meat fixings, and Shaw was determined to fix that. 

Root is nowhere to be seen, so after Shaw finishes unpacking the groceries, she makes her way to the other side of the safehouse to check on her. Shaw walks into their bedroom – dammit, now Shaw is saying 'their' too – and finds Root fast asleep on the bed and spooning a pillow, just dressed in sleep shorts and Shaw's button down shirt. The sleeves are a little too short on her, but Shaw's chest tightens at the sight. Shaw secretly loves the way Root always falls asleep clinging to something, whether it's her or a pillow. It always makes the hacker look so at peace. 

She wants to watch her a little longer, but Shaw does have a mission complete. As quietly as possible, Shaw grabs a dark blue silk scarf from the closet (which was 70% filled with Roots's clothing) and leaves for the kitchen. Root never specified that she had to be watching when Shaw completed the blindfold challenge, and she's eager to get it done before Root gets any ideas on how to get in her way. 

Once Shaw sets out the ingredients and memorizes the layout, she folds the scarf a couple times and ties it around her head. She considers for a moment what she is doing – that is, cooking alone in a kitchen after blindfolding herself – but mutters an exasperated "Root" before getting started. 

She starts off by preparing a rub from scratch, which is easy enough. It's always quick to make, and the blindfold barely slows her down at all. As the aroma of all the spices reaches her nose, Shaw lets out a content sigh, feeling completely in the zone. 

Her solitude doesn't last long, though. She hears the soft pad of footsteps approaching, followed by a quiet yawn. Losing one sense accentuates all the rest, and Shaw finds herself acutely aware of Root, despite not being able to see her. 

"Aw, started having fun without me, Sam?" Root teases. 

"I'm hungry," Shaw replies. Having finished the rub, she works on preparing the meat. Even without use of her eyes, she can feel Root's gaze on her.

"As am I..." Footsteps creak closer to her, and Shaw feels the hacker's hands move to grasp her waist ever so gently. Then, a pair of lips press softly against the back of her neck. Sam loses her focus for a moment. (It's the light touches that kill her the most; knowing how violent Root can be makes it all the more exhilarating when she chooses to be gentle.) 

"Nope, not allowed," Shaw forces herself to say. "You're not distracting me into losing, Root." 

Shaw can hear the pout in Root's reply. "So touching you is off limits?" 

"Touching me is off limits," Shaw confirms. 

"Oh... well, okay," Root says, her voice disappointed. "I guess I'll just... sit here and watch you, then." Root steps away from Shaw, and Shaw feels cold where the other woman's hands had been. She hears the rustle of movement and then a light "that's better" from Root, farther away. She senses that Root is sitting on the counter now, but true to her word, she's staying quiet and at a distance. 

Shaw makes a satisfied noise and continues her work. She preps the meat for searing and turns on the stove, her movements fluid with practice. Minutes pass by and Shaw finds herself surprised that Root isn't making any moves to distract her. The thought floats out of her head and she gets back to cooking, reaching out for the ground pepper.   
Except when she reaches it, there's a layer of fabric covering the container. She runs her fingertips along the fabric briefly and recognizes it as her shirt, the one Root was wearing to bed. 

"Oops," Root says innocently. "I guess it fell off." 

Shaw's cheeks start to flush. She knows Root sleeps without a bra, and despite her best efforts to stay focused, Shaw wonders how long Root has been sitting on the kitchen counter, completely shirtless. 

"You're not gonna distract me, Root," Shaw vows, trying to keep her voice controlled and uninterested. 

"Mm," is Root's response. "Guess I'll just have to distract myself, then." 

Shaw hears Root slide off the counter and walk over to Shaw. She feels her inches away, but Root doesn't touch her. Instead, she hears a snap of elastic and the sound of fabric hitting the floor. "Oops... that fell off, too."

Shaw would bet those are probably Root's panties. 

Sam refuses to indulge Root with a response and turns her focus back to the meat. There's a lot at stake, ha – damn it, Root's bad jokes have rubbed off on Shaw – and she will not be tricked into failing her mission. 

Behind her, she hears the light creak of the kitchen table, and then the sound of Root scooting herself onto it. Root lays back, and Shaw turns all of her senses to tending to the meat in front of her. She's doing pretty well for a couple minutes, right up until Shaw hears a light moan of "oh Shaw... fuck" from behind her. 

First off, Root knows full and well what her cursing does to Shaw, and second – Root is touching herself on their damn dinner table. Shaw tries to think of some sort of witty statement, but decides her voice will probably betray how turned on she's getting. So, silence it is. 

The tension in the room is palpable – all of Shaw's focus is on the steak, and she's desperately trying to keep Root's soft whispered moans and the faint sound of slippery flesh out of her mind. Every time the table creaks, a tingle makes its way down Shaw's spine, and the temperature in the room seems to be raising every minute. 

"Oh fuck, Sam... Sam," Root whimpers, and Shaw can hear her movements becoming more frantic. The idea of Root getting off right behind her without getting to touch her – or even watch her – was just slightly more unfathomable than the idea of a ruined steak. But, maybe there was a way to have both. 

So, Shaw had a new challenge to handle... Could she get Root off before the steak was finished? 

Decision made, Shaw steps away from the stove and washes her hands before turning around and ripping her blindfold off. Her eyes snap to the kitchen table and her breath catches in her throat at the sight of Root, thighs spread and hips bucking against her own hand. Root's movements still as Shaw comes closer, and a devilish smirk plays on her lips. 

"Well look at that, sweetie," Root said, both triumphant and breathless. "Looks like you lost your blindfold... and the challenge." 

"Nope," Shaw replies, grasping the outside of Root's thighs and hoisting her closer to the edge of the table. "Blindfold's only for cooking. I'll put it back on after I fuck you -- and then make you the best damn steak you've ever tasted." Before she can reply, Shaw is on top of her, kissing her neck ferociously and earning a surprised whimper from Root.   
Recovering quickly, Root buries her hands in Shaw's hair, her fingernails scraping against her scalp. She yanks her head up so she can press her lips against Shaw's, so rough she was sure they'd be bruised in the morning. Root's skin is warm and sweaty, having already gotten herself worked up, and Shaw wastes no time in bringing her hand between Root's thighs. She is on a tight schedule, after all. 

Shaw pushes two fingers into her roughly and Root cries out against Shaw's ears; her other hand is on the hacker's back, keeping her close as Shaw thrusts into her. Her pace is fast, Root's own hips meeting her every stroke, and she brushes the pad of her thumb against Root's clit; she can already feel Root tensing around her fingers. She thrusts even harder, eager to push her over the edge. 

But Root senses what Shaw is doing and forces her own hips to slow down, kissing the other woman more softly and gently undoes the buttons of her shirt. Shaw tries to increase the pace again, but Root yanks Shaw's head to the side and sinks her teeth into the base of her neck. 

"Mmph," Shaw moans, her movements temporarily halting as she gives into the sweet feeling of Root's bite. Root's teeth are trailing up her neck, tongue darting out occasionally to soothe its path, and then lips wrap around her earlobe – a weakness for Shaw. "Damn it, Root," Shaw curses, her head swimming with sensations. Pulling herself together, she uses her free hand to pull Root's hair, and her mouth sucks a trail from her collarbone and up her neck. Her thrusts pick up again and she moves at a frenetic pace, trying to make Root come undone before she finds another way to distract her. 

Root does her best to keep it together, her legs tight around Shaw's waist and face buried in her neck. Shaw can feel the vibrations of Root's stifled moans right against her shoulder, and the sensations are driving her crazy. She manages to hold out for a couple more minutes, but it all is becoming too much, and with three strokes against her g-spot, Root climaxes with a loud cry. 

The pair fall against the table, Shaw's fingers firmly buried inside of Root as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. Both of Root's hands are tightly clenching the hair at the base of her neck – Shaw was going to have to redo her ponytail – and Sam reveled in the feeling of Root's body clenched around her. 

"Sameen," is all Root manages to choke out, her chest heaving from the intensity. 

"C'mere," Shaw whispers, using her free hand to cradle Root's head and move her in for a kiss. Root's lips are soft and gentle – she's always so, so gentle after coming undone, a total contrast from everything building up to it – and Shaw sinks into Root, returning her kiss with equal softness. 

As Shaw's senses come back to her, she realizes she smells something burning. And it's burning a lot. Five seconds later, the safehouse's fire alarm starts blaring loudly in their ears, and the ceiling sprinklers follow soon after. 

"Shit, shit, shit," Shaw curses as she extracts herself from Root and turns around, looking at the stove and the plume of smoke coming out of it. 

"Well, darling," Root tells her, voice still a little shaky from her orgasm, "looks like I won our little challenge."


End file.
